


Homebound

by Sedusa



Series: Be More Chill one-shots [2]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced CSA, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Physical Abuse, Racism, Trans Male Character, Trans Rich Goranski, Transphobia, extreme poverty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 16:39:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15667113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sedusa/pseuds/Sedusa
Summary: Pulling into the park, a total of five cats scattered from their path, several more leering from under trailers where panelling had either eroded or ripped entirely. Downtrodden neighbors and packs of children moved like swarms, and you could faintly hear screaming in the distance. Most noise, however, had been muffled entirely by something unintelligible pumped out of shitty speakers--in Rich’s trailer.Michael glanced at him. Rich’s head was propped up by his hand as he leaned against the car door, yet his posture held as rigged as the look on his face. “This is gonna blow.”(WARNING: Extreme transphobic and racial slurs.)





	Homebound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vanceypants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanceypants/gifts).



> Please listen to the tags. This fic is inspired partially by experiences I had growing up an impoverished, brown queer kid.

Visits to The Goranski House were… never pleasant, but Michael hadn’t actually met Rich’s relatives before.

Well. 

Mostly. 

There was the time they went to get Rich’s clothes, and, right there on the steps, was Mr. Goranski, contorted in a way that immediately screamed “dead body”. Rich ignored him entirely.

There was Rich sneaking in when Cody was hooking up, in their room, for something in the living room. He’d been nervous about it, but he was in and out before anything could really happen.

(They’d also visited  _ her _ grave, once. Rich didn’t like to talk about it.)

Today, a face-to-face encounter was probably unavoidable. They’d have to be there early afternoon; from what Michael gathered, even if Mr. Goranski slept through his usual “morning drink” routine, Cody rarely left the house until dusk.

Michael would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a touch curious, but the sort of curious that gets people to click on articles titled “Top 10 REAL Gore Videos (UNCENSORED)”. Rich was considerably  _ less _ interested, of course, and for a full day leading up to it, muttering various ‘just-so-you-know’s and ‘try-not-to-mention’s, along with a constant, steady stream of Please Believe I’m Not Like Them--and, of course, Michael knew he wasn’t, because he understood Rich in a way nobody else did. 

(It felt cocky to admit that, but it didn’t make it less true. Michael didn’t spend hours of the day thinking about Rich to not  _ get it _ .)

Pulling into the park, a total of five cats scattered from their path, several more leering from under trailers where panelling had either eroded or ripped entirely. Downtrodden neighbors and packs of children moved like swarms, and you could faintly hear screaming in the distance. Most noise, however, had been muffled entirely by something unintelligible pumped out of shitty speakers--in Rich’s trailer.

Michael glanced at him. Rich’s head was propped up by his hand as he leaned against the car door, yet his posture held as rigged as the look on his face. “This is gonna  _ blow _ .”

“Probably,” Michael agreed. “But, hey, you won’t have to deal with their shit alone.”

“That’s true.” Rich gave him a thin smile, but it passed quickly, “... you should probably stay in the car.”

“No can do, babe. I’m not interested in getting mauled to death by cats.”

“I’m serious.” The tone of his voice was unsettling, but Michael remain unfazed. “Cody is an  _ asshole. _ ”

“And I’m serious too. You know there’s no way I’m letting you go in alone.” He threaded his fingers between Rich’s, thumb brushing against his wrist. “So let’s just, okay?”

Outside, Michael strained himself trying to make out the music coming from Cody’s room. It wasn’t until they were right at the door that it hit him: they were listening to Hybrid Theory.

He cringed.  _ Of course. Of course that’s what an edgy, unemployed white boy in his mid-twenties would decided to blast for the whole world to hear. _

Mr. Goranski definitely wasn’t passed out this time. He sat, staring at an old analog TV, in a broken recliner propped precariously against the arm of a ripped and stained couch. Rich slinked inside, Michael trailing behind, trying not to make noise in the hopes they could pass by unacknowledged.

It didn’t work. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Rich stopped walking, and sighed. “I live here, dad.”

“You sure don’t act like it,” Mr. Goranski growling, before devolving into a coughing fit, every breath coming out a gasp. The chair below him rocked unsteadily with each movement.

“I’ll be right back,” Rich mumbled, his dad still mid-wheezing. “Stay here, alright? That piece of shit can’t move enough to be dangerous.”

“But--”

“I’ll be  _ fine _ . You’re doing enough distract the fat fuck.” A quick peck on the cheek, and Rich was gone.

Michael considered sitting on the end of the couch not being used, but elected instead to sit on the ground, even though it was almost comically gross, because the couch looked… worse. Mr. Goranski had trouble bringing his breathing back to normal, and Michael wondered, briefly, if someone like this would even be around much longer. But wastes of space rarely die quickly, so he’d probably be here awhile.

… God, this was uncomfortable.

Every now and then, Michael could hear voices drifting from Rich’s room. The music had stopped, which was nice, but he couldn’t quite make out what was being said. A mixture of concern and that same morbid curiosity from before made his chest tight--or maybe that was all the dust.

“So, you’re the redskin faggot fucking my daughter, then?”

_ Ugh _ . Michael glanced over at him, and then back down the hallway to Rich’s room.

“Sure don’t look like a girl anymore, but trust me, no matter what kinda fake-cock she might’ve sewed on, she’s still my wife’s baby girl.” He hummed, petering out at the end. Michael hoped that was the last of it, but, when he spoke again, his voice cracked. “That’s probably why she killed herself. I always wondered why, y’know? Spent a lotta time drinking myself stupid asking that question. I guess giving birth to a defect is as good a reason as any. Not like the first one was any better, but at least he didn’t chop his cock off or something.”

_ Jesus Christ.  _ How was he even supposed to respond to that, “ _ sorry your wife killed herself and both of your children are worthless _ ”? The weight of this on Michael’s stomach made him sick. How could  _ anyone _ like this even be real? Logically, he knew better then that, but… yes, he knew he was lucky, to live the life he had, to have the parents’ he had--but! At the same time, it’s not like he was the only one in town whose parents did the bare fucking minimum to support their child, even if they were bigoted fuckheads. This house smells like urine and was covered in black mold. Half eaten plates of food scattered around, infested with flies and disease. That was just what he had seen. Rich… Rich didn’t just have a shitty family.

The image of flames flickered behind his eyes, and he shoved them as far the fuck away as he could. Rich survived that. It wouldn’t happen again. He wouldn’t  _ let _ it happen again.

The voices from the room started getting louder, and Mr. Goranski, thankfully, didn’t say anything else, instead staring down the same hall. Two pairs of feet moved quickly to the door, and Rich threw it open, storming out. Michael scrambled to stand up in time to watch Cody yank Rich’s arm back. “Hey,  _ dyke _ , I’m talking to you!”   
“FUCK  _ OFF! _ ” A timed punch, directly at his brother’s face. Cody ducked out of it, but it meant he had to let go, and Rich quickly got between him and Michael.

His voice was steady. His breathing was steady. But his eyes weren’t; in his frame, a light tremble. Fear. Rich put a lot of work into his size and build, but Cody was easily twice the size, and likely the strength too.

This was… a very dangerous situation, and he had even realized.

“I’m not gonna do anything to your sandnigger boyfriend, Emily.” Cody stepped back, but his posture still read aggressive. Michael looked between the two of them, and then the door; he and Rich were closet. But Cody seemed fast… Michael certainly wasn’t athletic enough to outrun anyone, and he was the only one who could drive his piece of shit car. “It just _ upsets _ me that he’s feeding you this shit, too. You look like a goddamn hobbit, you know. If you’re gonna choke on cock anyway, maybe you can get off those stupid shots and go back to being--”

“You’re not gonna convince her, especially when she’s being rewarded for it,” Mr. Goranski grunted from behind, having still not moved at all. “Grab me a beer, will you?”

“Dad, shut up, I know what I’m doing--”

“ _ Don’t you tell me to shut up, boy _ \--”

Rich grabbed Michael’s hand, his grip painfully tight. Motioning Michael to follow, they started to slink towards the door like they had when they arrived. Neither Cody nor his father saw; in fact, they seemed completely focused on each other, their fight increasing in volume with each passing second. Was this just how it was?

… was this just what Rich grew up with? 

Did his mother act like this? Was his father always a drunk? He talked about it so rarely; obviously it was bad, he’d freely admitted it was bad, but the details were never… it didn’t feel real.

There was so much here that Michael didn’t even know where to start.

 

(When they passed through the doors on their way out, Michael heard something.

“ _ Maybe she wouldn’t have become such an abomination if you hadn’t touched her.” _

He couldn’t tell which one it was.)


End file.
